Chiaroscuro
by Misya
Summary: Rorschach gets nostalgic. Very light Dan/Rorschach, if you squint. Written 02/04/09.


Rorschach has an excellent memory. He remembers the names of the prison guards, and he can identify most of them by the sound of their footsteps, but they do not hold his interest. They are all the same. They are not good men. Good men do not work in a cesspit like this - if they do, then they do not remain good men for long. He has yet to determine which ones are sadists, and which ones are perverts, and which ones are thieves, and which ones are instigators, but it will have to wait, because he grows tired of it. He grows tired of trying to figure out their shifts, their habits, the patterns that they follow as they pace up and down the corridor beyond his bars. He grows tired, and lies back on his bunk, to look at the shapes of the water stains on the ceiling. It seems to be getting harder to think. They must have put something in his food.

He wonders if is going to leave Sing Sing alive. If he dies, then he will not find out the identity of the mask killer and stop them from killing again, and that is the only thing that bothers him. It bothers him more than he can articulate.

But, worrying serves no purpose. A person must rationally review the facts.

Rorschach has an excellent memory, so he closes his eyes.

"Oh shit, I forgot, I was going to tell you-..." Nite Owl begins one night, while they're en route to a routine patrol of Manhattanville. "...I think you should learn to fly the owlship."

Nite Owl is smiling. Rorschach opens his mouth to reply, but Nite Owl starts talking again. "In case anything happens to me, you know. And you've watched me pilot it plenty of times."

The closest vehicle that Rorschach can compare the owlship to is a helicopter. Rorschach doesn't know or really care much about helicopters, but he does know that they're notoriously difficult to fly.

Rorschach can't even legally drive a car.

"You're joking," Rorschach replies.

"No, seriously - it's easy. It's very forgiving." Nite Owl's expression is punchably earnest. He has his goggles pushed up on to his forehead, which always makes Rorschach feel a little irritated, because it gives too much of his face away. He once caught Nite Owl in the process of unthinkingly taking his goggles off in front of a suspect, and when Rorschach had told him to stop, Nite Owl had flinched like he'd been kicked. Nite Owl's prudence sometimes takes a back seat to his enthusiasm.

Rorschach wants to tell Nite Owl that it's a ridiculous idea. He wants to wipe the smile off the man's face and tell him to be realistic.

But then Rorschach would also have to admit that he doesn't want to learn how to pilot the owlship because he doesn't think he's capable of it. And that's unacceptable.

It would be useful to know how to pilot the ship in an emergency.

Rorschach fixes Nite Owl with a stare while he thinks of something to say.

Nite Owl reaches over to nudge Rorschach's arm with his fist. It's one of those glib little gestures of informality that make Rorschach's skin crawl. Rorschach has been making an effort to be social for the last few years, but it's exhausting, and it would be so much easier if people weren't so over-friendly and fake. Except that in Nite Owl's case, it isn't fake, and that is somehow worse. "Come on," says Nite Owl, encouragingly. "You gave me pointers on how to fight; I feel like I should return the favor in some way, right?"

It's a quiet night. The scum of New York are stuck between payday and welfare checks; most of them are too sober to create trouble. If Rorschach is going to learn how to fly the ship, then now would be a good time to start.

"Alright," Rorschach says, and feels as if he's humoring a child. Nite Owl's smile widens in to a grin.

"Wake up, beautiful," says one of the guards. (Lopez? Probably Lopez, who is right-handed and has a smoker's cough.) Someone shoves tray of food through the slot in the door. Rorschach opens his eyes; blinks. It has been two days in solitary, and he has already got used to waking up inside the cell. He looks up at the shapes of the water stains on the ceiling, but they haven't changed. Of course not.

The tray is metal and would be useful, metal can always be sharpened against the wall of the cell, possibly useful to keep in mind, but no, there's no point, he's being irrational, the guards always want the tray back and if you don't obey them quickly enough they come at you with pepper spray and there's no room to get away from it and he has to be patient. Rorschach has seen how they treat the other prisoners, and he has already tested the guards in little ways to get a better idea of what he can and cannot do. His cell is at the end of the corridor, giving him a good view of everything that goes on. Fortunate.

He gets up from the bunk, crosses the cell in one step, picks up the tray. He's not hungry, but force of habit makes him eat when there's food available. When he doesn't eat, it draws their attention.

It must be around mid day. He estimates that he'll soon be taken for his interview with Dr. Long. Would be more tolerable if it wasn't for the strip search conducted every time he returns to his cell (they say that they know how he is with improvised weapons and they take no chances) but even that can be endured. He puts his mind elsewhere, lets the process happen to someone else. It's a good trick. Learned it a very long time ago. Everything can be endured. They say that solitary confinement can make people insane. Rorschach doesn't fear that.

He quickly finishes the food without tasting it and returns the tray to its slot. Goes back to the bunk. Lies down. Rolls over on to one side, and curls up, to keep warm. He hasn't wanted to sleep this badly since...

Can't remember.

When his mind drifts, he doesn't fight it. He listens to the drone of the fluorescent lights. The electronic hum makes him feel better but he can't explain why.

Fifteen minutes later, and Central Park is spread out below them like a long blanket. Around it, New York glitters like New Jerusalem. It's almost possible to forget that there are people swarming down there, eating, sleeping, bickering, breeding.

Prior to teaming up with Nite Owl, Rorschach hadn't been aboard an aircraft before; it was just another one of those things that he'd never needed to do. He still can't get over how unreal the city looks. He can pick out the streets he knows, but they're no longer his streets, because he's seeing them from such an alien perspective. It's beautiful, but it's also... What's the word? Uncanny. From the German word 'unheimlich'. 'Unhomely'. This isn't his New York. His New York has more garbage and muggings.

Nite Owl seems to take the view for granted.

Rorschach makes a mental note of the areas that Nite Owl is unfamiliar with, the places that he still needs to show to him. Nite Owl's knowledge of the city isn't that bad, but there are limits to his experience. There are many areas in New York that a wealthy young caucasian has no reason to visit.

"Here, let's swap places," says Nite Owl, who flips a few switches on the control panel, then stands up from the pilot's seat to let Rorschach sit there, instead. The seat is still warm and the leather creaks in a way that sounds new and expensive, and Rorschach suddenly feels like he's in the middle of a Jules Verne story. The control panel looks like the result of a collaboration between Rube Goldberg and NASA - it is both intricate and unfinished - and the cryptic buttons and levers are a forest of symbols. It looks complicated, but complexity can always be taken apart and rendered down in to simple pieces that are easier to understand. Rorschach is well aware that he isn't stupid, despite what people have told him in the past, and he refuses to be intimidated by anything as whimsical as the owlship.

Nite Owl is a genius. He could easily become an important figure in the field of aeronautics, and become rich and famous. But he doesn't; he prefers to fight crime. And for that, Rorschach is grateful.

"OK, the basics - you push the stick down to point the nose downwards, and pull back on it to pull the nose up-..." Nite Owl begins.

"Nite Owl?" Rorschach interrupts. He has no intention of touching the control stick just yet.

"Yeah?"

"Wouldn't it be safer to be teaching me this while we're both still on the ground." Rorschach almost succeeds in phrasing it like a question, but it falls flat, and comes out sounding slightly accusatory. He can't always help it.

"No, I think it's alright. So long as you don't make us dive in to the trees, we should be fine. Like I say, the owlship is very forgiving, and I figured that we might as well skip straight to the practical bit rather than waste time discussing the theory. Consider this a crash course. I've got it set up right now so that it almost flies a lot like a conventional fixed-wing aircraft, despite the fact that it's a completely different animal."

"Crash course," Rorschach repeats.

"Yes, well, anyway - you push the stick down to point the nose downwards, and pull back on it to pull the nose up. The stick controls pitch and roll. You see those pedals at your feet? They control yaw. To, say, make the owlship turn to the left, you'd apply pressure to the left pedal and gently turn the stick to the left at the same time. If you only used the yoke, then the ship would roll without turning properly and 'slip', and if you only used the pedal, it'd 'skid' - both of which are inefficient ways to turn. You see that?" Nite Owl taps his index finger against one of the glass-faced instruments set in the control panel. "That's the turn co-ordinator. If you're turning correctly, the little ball inside the tube should be dead in the center."

Rorschach nods. He's seen Nite Owl make the owlship ascend vertically, like an elevator, or go backwards - but for now, he's content to focus on the basics.

Nite Owl points to a lever at Rorschach's left. "That's one of the throttles. Right now, it controls forward momentum." He leans over to push the lever slightly, and the ground creeps beneath them as the owlship slowly moves forwards. "As you can see, right now we're facing the art museum, with the reservoir to our left. That tiny weird round white thing to the north east is the Guggenheim. You want to try turning the owlship so that it's facing towards it?" Nite Owl doesn't even give him the chance to answer the question. "Always look at the horizon when you turn, and use it as a reference point. You want the ship to change its heading, but not its pitch or altitude. Try not to look in the direction you're turning in. And be gentle."

Rorschach takes the control stick in both hands, and places his foot on the left pedal.

Rorschach eyes the control stick. He eyes it for what feels like a very long time.

"It's not going to bite you," Nite Owl says.

Rorschach eyes Nite Owl. Nite Owl shuts up.

Rorschach is aware of how incredibly expensive the owlship is. How much did it cost to build? Probably more money than he's going to see in one lifetime. He wonders if he's the only other person to try flying the owlship, other than Nite Owl himself.

Rorschach has never felt performance anxiety before.

Rorschach turns the ship.

The world tilts as the ship rolls - Rorschach feels gravity push him deeper in to the seat - and Nite Owl staggers sideways and hits the wall with an 'oof'. Rorschach instinctively levels the ship out again, and looks over to Nite Owl, who has landed against the tangle of cables that have been secured to the owlship's interior with duct tape.

"Use less force next time," says Nite Owl, who staggers over and immediately grabs the back of the pilot's chair. "He's sensitive."

"He?"

"The owlship."

"Thought ships were meant to be female."

"It's just an airship, Rorschach," Nite Owl says, and Rorschach thinks, _right_.

They're now facing sort-of-but-not-quite in the direction of the Guggenheim. It's dwarfed by the taller buildings, and difficult to make out, but it stands out slightly because of its distinctive shape and the way that its white walls gently reflect the light. Streetlamps tend to throw things in to stark relief, but everything looks more diffuse when viewed from above. The city has a glow to it. Probably due to the air pollution.

"Want to try again? Turn the ship back towards the art museum," Nite Owl says. They're still inching forwards, and the engines hum quietly, as if holding them up in the air is the easiest thing in the world, and Rorschach wonders what sort of madman thinks it's a good idea to fly around inside a metal cylinder that's only supported by a cluster of unfathomably complicated turbines. The owlship doesn't even have wings. Rorschach knows as much about aeronautics as Nite Owl knows about industrial sewing machines, but Rorschach is still quite sure that wings are usually required. Not having wings is just pushing your luck.

Rorschach shrugs, and carefully eases the stick to the right, squeezing his foot down on the pedal and keeping his attention divided between the turn co-ordinator and the horizon. Resisting the urge to look in the direction he's turning towards is surprisingly difficult. The ship moves so slowly that he can hardly feel it, but the way that the ground passes under them indicates that they're changing position. Being in the owlship gives him the sense that he exists at a fixed point at the center of the universe, and that the world rotates around him. Must be how Ozymandias feels all the time. Rorschach lines up with the art museum - which is now a lot closer - and levels off.

"That was pretty good. You're a natural," Nite Owl tells him. "If you can learn the basic principles quickly, then the rest should follow easily enough. It's just a matter of remembering things - procedures, landmarks, which buttons to press and when, all that crap - and that'll come easily to you. Your memory is better than mine, and you know the city pretty well. The rest of it is spatial awareness, motor skills and some basic math."

Rorschach dislikes compliments. He especially dislikes it when he finds himself secretly enjoying them. Sets a bad precedent.

"Hey-..." Nite Owl leans over (making Rorschach shift away from him) and reduces the throttle until they come to a standstill. Nite Owl then turns away, and reaches up to take out an item that has been tucked behind a ceiling spar. The item is a folder, easily the size of a phonebook, and Rorschach notes (with wry amusement) that there's a crescent moon printed on the cover. "This is a flight manual. It's sort of a work in progress. I don't know how much of it will make sense to you if you're not familiar with aircraft, but, y'know..." Nite Owl offers it to Rorschach. "You can read it in your spare time. If you want. If you're interested, it might help."

Rorschach accepts it. "I'll bring this back in a few weeks." He still feels like he's humoring a child, but doesn't mind it. Out of curiosity, he opens flicks through the pages, revealing lovingly-drawn diagrams and text that looks as if it has been typed up on an old typewriter, the kind where the keys are slightly bent out of alignment.

Nite Owl gives him another one of those grins. "Might as well keep it, I've already got another two of them." It must have taken him ages to put together and print.

Rorschach considers the crescent moon logo on the front, and the information contained inside. "Someone like Boeing or Lockheed would kill to see this."

"I'm sure you won't run off with my engineering secrets. You're not the sort," Nite Owl says, and while this is true, it also makes Rorschach want to hit him with the folder for being so trusting.

Still. He has a lot of patience for Nite Owl. More patience than he's had for anyone else in a very long time.

He's still trying to reconcile Nite Owl's intellect with the fact that Nite Owl resembles an overgrown teenager. Rorschach doubts that he's any older than his early 20s. Perhaps Nite Owl would be better working with Ozymandias. They would be a pair of genius wunderkind, fighting injustice using their combined wealth and superior intellect. The two of them would be completely intolerable.

Rorschach believes that Nite Owl is as smart, if not smarter, than Ozymandias. When Rorschach thinks about it, it makes him feel smug and jealous at the same time, as if Nite Owl's immaturity is infectious.

"I'll keep it safe," Rorschach tells him, and Nite Owl gives him a comradely pat on the shoulder, although he promptly stops when he notices Rorschach's body language. Nite Owl still smiles at him, regardless.

Rorschach has a lot of patience for Nite Owl, and it seems that Nite Owl has a lot of patience for Rorschach. They have a lot to teach each other.

Later, Rorschach will point out the illuminated streets of New York to Nite Owl, and give names to the clusters of lights on the ground. Nite Owl's knowledge of the city could be better, and he'll be content to shut up and listen while Rorschach tells him about the locations of recent criminal activity. Apart from their voices, the only other sound in the world will be the quiet drone of the engines.

An angry shout wakes Rorschach up and he immediately sits bolt upright, thinking _this is it_, and he's standing up and looking around before his mind has processed what is happening. He searches for an attacker but there isn't one - instead, the guards are dealing with another prisoner further down the corridor.

Rorschach does not know what has caused the altercation and he does not care. Both the guards and the prisoner involved are equally culpable. The rest of the filth are trying to look out their bars to see what is happening, but Rorschach can't see inside the other prisoner's cell from where he is. Someone curses in pain. If the guards are brutal, it is because they have to be, and Rorschach briefly feels something for them that is similar to empathy.

It is impossible to remain in Sing Sing for long and not be corrupted in some way. There are some things that cannot be tainted by the prison, but they are incorporeal and exist only in the safer parts of Rorschach's mind, and in his weaker moments he wonders if they will be enough. The prison is a monument to moral cowardice. It is almost kinder to kill people rather than lock them up here, especially in this place, what is known euphemistically as the 'Special Housing Unit', where there are no windows, and you only see the sky through bars when you are allowed to visit the recreation area for an hour. It is an evil place that makes good men evil and evil men worse.

Was it still worth it, though, attacking Otis? Yes.

Ironically, Rorschach's chances of survival are probably a lot better in solitary. Harder to escape, but more time to plan. He has to be patient. It has only been two days.

The unanswered question of the mask killer gnaws at the edge of his mind. A lot can happen in two days.

He has to be patient.

He returns to his bunk. The water stains on the ceiling remind him of a map of a lost country. Or the dark skyline of a city, as seen from the air.


End file.
